Harry Potter and the Twelve Days of Christmas
by sprinter1988
Summary: Harry wants to ask Hermione to marry him, but he has to prove himself to her father first. Does Harry have what it takes to get all the presents of the song "The Twelve Days of Christmas" before the time-limit is up? H/Hr, AU, post Hogwarts.
1. The Challenge

**To all Harry/Hermione fans, here's a festive tale for you.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Harry Potter, but who knows what Father Christmas will bring me this year :)**

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><p><span>Harry Potter and the Twelve Days of Christmas<span>

Chapter 1: The Challenge.

_13__th__ December, 2001._

The gate to the garden of the cottage squeaked as he opened it to walk through. He smiled at the sight of the cottage, one of the windows letting a warm golden glow out onto the snow outside, and a few wisps of smoke floating out of the chimney.

She would not be here yet, but her parents were here, and it is they who Harry wished to speak to.

He walked up to the door and knocked. A few moments later it was opened and the woman on the other side greeted him with a wide smile before pulling him into a hug.

"Harry! How nice to see you. You're a little early, I'm afraid. Hermione's not home from work yet."

Harry smiled and returned the hug, replying "I know. I actually wanted to speak with you and your husband, Mrs Granger."

"Harry, how many times must I tell you to call me Emma?" the woman asked, pulling him inside and shutting the door "Daniel's through there." she added without waiting for Harry's response to her question. She directed him to the front room.

The truth was, Harry knew full well that he had Hermione's parents' permission to call them by their given names, but he did not yet feel that he had earned that right. Hopefully he'd feel more comfortable with the idea once he had their answer to his question, although that depended entirely on what their answer actually was.

Harry and Emma found Daniel Granger sitting in the comfortable armchair by the fireplace, which contained a merrily flickering fire, reading the evening paper and smoking a pipe.

"Dan, look who's here." said Emma happily.

Daniel looked up at the new arrival and smiled widely "Harry," he said, getting up and extending a hand to him "good to see you, son."

"It's good to see you too, sir." replied Harry, shaking the man's hand.

"You're a bit early, my lad." said Dan, sitting back down "Hermione's still at work."

"I know." replied Harry "I actually came early, you see, I have something to ask the two of you."

Dan sat up a bit straighter in his chair, putting his paper aside as his wife sat down on the arm of the chair.

"I see," said Dan "And what is it that you wanted to ask us?"

Suddenly feeling a little nervous, Harry brought his hand up and ruffled the hair on the back of his head, a trait he developed during the final year of the second war against Voldemort.

He took a deep breath "Okay, it's like this; I want to ask Hermione to marry me on Christmas day, and I'd like your permission to do it."

"Of course." answered Emma immediately, though Daniel had other ideas.

"No."

"Daniel!" his wife exclaimed.

Harry felt as though he had been violently kicked in the stomach, and missed the silent conversation between the husband and wife which resulted in Emma leaving the room.

"Harry" said a voice that cut through the haze of pain that Harry seemed to be in "Harry, you realise why I said no don't you?"

Harry swallowed thickly through the sickly feeling that surged through him and answered "Well, to be honest, sir…" he broke off.

"Harry, she's my little girl. My only child."

Harry understood that much, Hermione explained how complications when she was being born meant that her mother was unable to conceive another child.

"I said yes to a suitor of hers once before, and he hurt her. Badly."

Anger welled up inside of Harry at the reference to his red-headed former best friend "I'm nothing like that arrogant-"

"I know you're not." interrupted Daniel "If you were, I'd have chased you away with a stick the moment Hermione brought you home as her new boyfriend. But you know what an awful state she was in when that _Weasley_ broke her heart by sleeping with that tart." he practically spat the name _Weasley_ "Harry, if you're going to have my permission to marry my daughter, you're going to have to earn it."

"How?" asked Harry, eager to earn the approval of his would-be fiancé's father. He would do anything to prove himself.

Daniel Granger sat back in his seat, surveying the young man in front of him. Harry Potter was definitely a better match for his Hermione that that prat Ronald Weasley had ever been, but after seeing his daughter so devastated by a would-be husband before, Daniel wanted Harry to prove his love for his daughter.

It just so happened that Daniel Granger was a member of the local church choir, having joined up shortly after arriving in the village following their selling of his and Emma's dental practice a little over a year ago. The choir was currently in rehearsals for the Christmas Eve carol service. As well as many usual carols about the birth of Jesus, they were also planning on singing a few more traditional carols as well, including one in particular.

"Harry, I assume that you are familiar with the song "The Twelve Days of Christmas", are you not?"

"Of course." replied Harry. A part of him wondered where Daniel Granger was going with this, and another, more worried part of him thought it already knew.

"Today, Harry is the 13th of December. Starting tomorrow, I want you to bring Hermione each present mentioned in the song. Tomorrow, the 14th will be a partridge in a pear tree. The day after, the 15th, will be two turtle doves, and so on, until the 25th, Christmas Day, when you will present her with the final gift, twelve drummers drumming. If you do this, I will give you my consent to ask my daughter for her hand in marriage."

"Fine, I'll do it." replied Harry confidently, although on the inside he was panicking; where the hell was he supposed to get a partridge? Or a pear tree for that matter?

Daniel smiled "I don't doubt it."

The pair sat in silence for a few moments before Harry asked a question that suddenly sprang to his mind.

"Sir, don't the twelve days of Christmas usually come _after_ the 25th?"

"Of course they do." replied Daniel "But I was under the impression that you wanted to be able to ask Hermione to marry you _on_ the 25th?"

Harry could only nod in answer.

The silence was broken once again by a key in the lock on the front door.

"I'm home!" Hermione called, pulling off her thick, fleece-lined coat and woolly hat and hanging them both up.

Emma came out of the kitchen to welcome her home and tell her that Harry was there.

Hermione swept into the living room, gave her father a hug and a kiss on the cheek and then sat down on the sofa and snuggled into Harry's side after giving him a kiss.

"Hi sweetie." she greeted him "You're early."

"Yeah, well…" said Harry, searching for an excuse to be here so soon "I couldn't wait to see you, could I?"

"Aw." was Hermione's response, before she grabbed his arm and pulled it around her shoulders.

"I'm cold. Warm me up."

Harry grinned. He might not have a clue where he'd go to get a bunch of birds, leaping lords, dancing ladies or multiple musicians, but warming Hermione up was something he knew he could do.

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><p><strong>AN: So what do you think? To those of you wondering what exactly Ron did to break Hermione's heart so terribly, I don't know if I'll go into detail about it because that's not what this story is about, but you'll probably safe in assuming that its one of the generic reasons found in fanfictions.**

**Fun fact for the story: I knew that I wanted to write this, but had trouble getting words flowing, so I downloaded "The Twelve Days of Christmas" sung by The Spinners (the UK folk group, not the American R&B/soul group) to my iTunes library, which tells me that in writing this chapter alone, I have listened to it 33 times! Certainly got the gears of plot-making going though!**


	2. The First Present

**To all Harry/Hermione fans, here's a festive tale for you.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Harry Potter, but who knows what Father Christmas will bring me this year :)**

Harry Potter and the Twelve Days of Christmas

Chapter 2: The First Present.

_14__th__ December, 2001_

"So starting today you have twelve days to prove how much you love Hermione by lavishing her with the gifts from a Christmas carol?" asked Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic.

"Yup." answered Harry, who had just told Kingsley and a few of his co-workers about last night's events over lunch.

"Sounds simple enough." said Susan Bones "You know how to conjure birds, don't you?"

"Hmm," responded Harry "I think conjurations and enchantments might count against me, though. I think the challenge is not the gifts, but the lengths I'll go to in order to get them for Hermione. Magic fells like I'd be cheating."

"He's not wrong there." said Tonks "Flowers from a florist means so much more than whatever you can conjure up with a cry of "_Orchideous"_. "So you're doing this all Muggle, then?" asked Williamson. "I s'pose so." said Harry "Although I'll probably have to use magic to help with getting the present sometimes."

"Then what the hell are you still doing here?" asked Kingsley.

"What?" asked Harry, dumbly.

"You've got just twelve days to get the gifts for Hermione, and you've wasted half of it here. Get going."

"But I don't finish for my Christmas Holidays for another week." protested Harry.

"Who cares?" asked Kingsley "I'm sure we can pick up your slack around here."

"He's right." said Tonks "You've got gifts to get and a lady's hand to win. Get the hell outta here!"

"You're sure?"

"Yes. Now go." said Kingsley.

"Um, okay." said Harry, getting up from the cafeteria table "Thanks."

"Remember to call us if you need help!" Susan called after him.

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><p>Despite being the middle of winter, the garden centre was packed with people. No one did any gardening during the winter months, and the owners of these places had long ago figured this out. The response to the massive slump in sales of gardening tools, composts and flowers? Christmas decorations.<p>

As soon at August was over, garden centres the length and breadth of the British Isles began bringing out the tinsel, baubles and twinkling lights slowly, and by the end of October they were usually crammed to capacity with decorations of all kinds, from the kinds you hang on the tree to those that stood outside and bathed the garden in a festive glow.

This one was no exception. Harry made his way through the bustling crowds outside as they gawked at luminous reindeer pulling sleighs and glowing snowmen that could wave. Inside he was forced to weave through display after display of cosy scenes of front rooms decorated for the festive season, avoid the branches of hundreds of Christmas trees, some decorated, some not, and worm his way through the ranks of shoppers innumerable.

Carols rang out through hidden speakers on every aisle, people dressed as snowmen and elves wandered around handing out flyers for everything from decorations, to perfect presents, to butcher's selling turkeys. Oddly there was even one dressed as a penguin handing out leaflets for car insurance policies.

Hundreds of excited children with their flustered parents were clustered around a colourful setup above which a large red and gold sign decorated with holly and glittering lights proclaimed "Meet Santa Here!"

Harry was here for none of this. What he needed was a member of staff. Looking around he saw a pretty hacked-off looking elf shove her way out from the throng of children all clamouring to see Santa and get a free toy. Harry briefly wondered why Muggles thought elves dressed like Peter Pan, and then followed her. Unfortunately she was a bit ahead of him, and the crowds seemed determined to keep him from catching up to her.

When he finally did catch up with her, it was just in time to see her slip through a large blue door marked "Staff Only."

Throwing caution to the winds (making sure there wasn't a security guard around) Harry made his way over to the door and opened it. After all, he needed a member of staff and odds were there mere more than just the elf behind a door labelled "Staff Only."

He was wrong. It was just the elf behind the door. The door in fact led outside, where the elf had a cigarette between her lips and was and was trying to light it. The problem was they were outside, and every time she struck a flame with her lighter, the chilly wind blew it out.

"Um, excuse me?" Harry asked after a few moments.

She turned to him, and the annoyed look on her face became even more annoyed "Can't ya read, bozo? Staff only out here."

"Yeah, sorry about that." said Harry, though he wasn't really "I need help though."

"Yeah? And what makes you think I'll help?" she asked, bad-temperedly.

In response, Harry just pointed to her chest. She scowled and looked down at where he was pointing. Mind immediately going to the wrong place, she was just about to scream for a supervisor when she noticed the badge pinned to her elf suit.

It read: Happy to Help.

"Damn badges." she grumbled before looking back up at Harry "Yeah, well, I'm on my break."

"Please." said Harry "I just want to know if there are any trees I can buy around here."

She looked at him like he was the biggest moron on the planet "You're joking right? There's gotta be two thousand of the things in there, and you can't find one?"

"Not Christmas trees." said Harry, shaking his head "I need a pear tree."

She eyed him for a few moments, and then held out her hand, the one with the cigarette in it "You got a light?"

Harry snatched the cigarette from her, spun around, took out his wand, used it to ignite the tip of the cigarette, tucked the wand away and then turned back to the elf, handing her the toxin-filled stick. She took it from him, put it to her lips, drew a long, deep drag, savoured it for a few moments, and then exhaled a cloud of smoke. The wind blew this right into Harry's face, causing him to cough.

She smirked with amusement, drew another puff, blew it out and called out loudly "Ian!"

A few moments later, a man came around the corner of the building.

"Yeah?" he grunted.

The elf gestured to Harry "He wants a pear tree." she said.

Ian sniffed loudly before grunting "Righ'. Follow me."

He turned and walked (or should that be shuffled?) off.

Harry sent a look to the elf again, who was drawing another puff of smoke from her cigarette. She gave him a wave, and Harry turned and followed Ian.

Ian was quite a sight. He was in his mid-sixties. He was mostly bald but for a few long, greasy black hairs that were swept into a very unconvincing comb-over. His nose was large, bulbous and red, and his eyes were hidden by glasses that seemed to be of the same thickness as a paving slab, and were about as easy to see through.

They seemed to walk quite a way from the building, and by the time they stopped, the excited screams of the joyful children were little more than a distant hum, though the direction of the strong winds were more responsible for that than the distance they walked.

Before them was a small area of dirt that had, at one point, been dug over. Many small trees, most no more than two feet high, were barely in the soil, and seemed to have taken quite a beating from the wind and snow of recent days.

Harry followed Ian as the man made his way into these. Every so often Ian would stop, grasp a tree and pull it close to examine the writing on the white tag wrapped around each. They passed many trees, including ones labelled Cherry, Apple and Plum, before they came to the last tree.

It was the weakest looking one of the lot, was most-probably dead, and, as is always the case with stories like these, it was the only pear tree of the lot.

Ian grabbed it by the trunk and pulled it right out of the ground. It had hardly any roots to it.

With a grunt, he held it out to Harry who, feeling pretty unsure of things, took it from him.

After a few moments of silence, Harry cleared his throat and asked "Um, got a pot for it?"

Ian turned away and vanished amongst the trees.

He was gone a long time.

Harry felt rather stupid standing there, shivering with the cold, clutching a most likely dead tree, waiting to see if a man who was nearly blind would come back with a pot for the aforementioned most likely dead tree.

Ian did come back, carrying a pot far too small for the tree. He grabbed the tree from Harry, turned it upside down (allowing what few branches there were on the thing to snap in half on the ground) and shoved the pot over the end (snapping off what few roots there were in the process as well) before handing it back to Harry, still upside down.

"Er, thanks." was Harry's reply "Um, I'll just go pay for it then."

He walked away as quickly as he could without seeming rude and, once he was out of sight of Ian, he broke into a run.

Back inside the garden centre, Harry received many odd looks as he walked through clutching the thin trunk of the mostly broken, still upside down, most probably dead pear tree, but he ignored them. He had the half of the first gift, all he had to do was pay for it, and then he had to go find a partridge.

He stood in line at the till, amongst people with baskets and trollies overflowing with festive goodies, and was soon being served.

The blond haired woman (well I say blond; it was obviously a dye-job if her roots were anything to go bye) at the till, reached over with her scanner. The red glow illuminated the white label of the still upside-down pear tree for a moment, and a beep told them that the barcode had been successfully read.

The woman punched a few buttons on the till and then announced for all those nearby to hear "£35 please."

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><p>"You actually <em>paid<em> for it?" Neville demanded.

Harry's reply of "Yes" was muffled by the hands he held over his face.

"Huh. Well I guess it's true what they say; a fool and his money are soon parted."

Harry lowered his hands a little in order to send a glare Neville's way "Well, can you do anything for it or what?"

"I'll try." said Neville, lifting a broken branch to examine it "But I wouldn't hold out much hope if I were you."

"Gee, thanks." said Harry, standing up and heading for the door "I'll be back for it later."

"Where're you going?" asked Neville.

"I've got to get a partridge to put in that thing." said Harry as he vanished outside.

Neville looked back at the tree. It didn't look as though it could support a feather, let alone a whole partridge.

He picked it up and carried it to his magically heated Greenhouse, where his girlfriend Hannah Abbott was tending to a tentacula.

"Hannah, get the Dragon dung."

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><p>Harry was freezing. For the last three and a half hours he had been wandering around this woodland looking for a partridge. Silencing charms on his feet and scent masking spells on his body made getting close to animals much easier, but he had been having trouble finding the right animal. He'd seen pheasants by the dozen, pigeons by the hundreds and more robins, blue tits, chaffinches and rooks than he cared to count, but no partridges.<p>

Until just now.

The bird he had been searching for had fluttered down into a heather patch about twenty yards from him. Now he was sneaking up on it.

The thing was completely unaware of the incoming risk, and happily pecked away at the dirt.

Deciding that he was close enough, Harry raised his wand to stun the thing when nature decided to interfere.

Where the fox had come from, Harry did not know, but the thing sprang through the air, landing right on top of the partridge before the bird even realised it was there. One bite stopped it from struggling, and the fox trotted off to consume its dinner elsewhere.

Furious could be used to describe how Harry felt, though that might be a bit of an understatement, for he stood up and shouted "You stupid bushy-tailed bas-"

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><p>Hannah opened the door to admit one weary, dirty and nearly frozen Harry Potter.<p>

"Any luck with the partridge?" she asked as Harry made his way over to the fire to thaw.

His answer was a murderous-sounding muttering.

The corners of Hannah's mouth twitched slightly as she fought a laugh "Um, I'll – I'll go get Neville."

She left.

Two minutes later Neville entered the room to find Harry trying to get the feeling back in his hands.

"Well I did my best." said Neville, setting the tree down in front of Harry.

A horrid smell immediately struck Harry's nostrils, forcing him to turn away with a muttered "Jesus Christ!"

"That's the Dragon dung." said Neville "About the only fertilizer with a chance of bringing that thing back to life."

"I'm not surprised." muttered Harry through a hand he was now using to cover his nose and mouth from the odour "Neville, that stink could awaken the dead!"

Neville gave a nod "Just tell Hermione to add a phial of this stuff once a day until the spring." he handed Harry a large glass bottle containing some amber liquid.

"Dragon piss, I suppose?" joked Harry, taking the bottle.

Neville shook his head "Troll."

Harry nearly dropped the bottle, which would not have been a good thing because Hannah would most likely kill him for getting Troll's urine on her carpet.

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><p>"Harry, what the hell is that?" asked Hermione, holding a hand over her mouth and nose much like Harry had done earlier. Her mother and father mirrored her actions.<p>

"It's a pear tree." answered Harry, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Why does it smell do bad?" asked Emma.

"Why's it dead?" asked Daniel.

"It's not dead, its dying." replied Harry "And that smell is the smell of Dragon dung. It's a highly potent fertiliser and it's the best chance there is of bringing the tree back to life."

"And why would you get a half-dead pear tree slathered in dragon crap?" asked Hermione.

"It's for you." replied Harry.

Hermione stared at him, looking incredulous, before finally saying "Just don't bring it into the house."

She and Emma hurried inside.

Daniel braved the smell a bit longer to ask "Where's the partridge?"

"You think any bird would sit in this thing with this stink?" asked Harry.

"Did you manage to get one through?"

"No. I nearly got one, but a fox got there first. It got dark soon after."

Daniel nodded "Alright. Keep an eye out for one, I'll still let it count, even if it's the last thing you get. And remember, tomorrow's two turtle doves."

"Right." replied Harry, before remembering something "Oh yeah. The tree needs to be given a beaker full of this once a day." he handed the bottle to Dan, who took it.

"What is it?"

"Troll's piss."

Daniel dropped it.

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><p><strong>AN: So what do you think? The hunt for the first present didn't go that well, but at least he's made a start.**

**Fun fact for the story: The count for the number of times I've listened to "The Twelve Days of Christmas" is now 67. At this rate, by the time I'm done with this, I'll never get the song out of my head!**


	3. The Problem with Migration

**To all Harry/Hermione fans, here's a festive tale for you.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Harry Potter, but who knows what Father Christmas will bring me this year :)**

Harry Potter and the Twelve Days of Christmas

Chapter 3: The Problem with Migration.

_15__th__ December 2001._

The three Grangers had just sat down to dinner when the phone in the hall began to ring loudly. After a few rings, during which the three sitting at the table exchanged looks and had a silent argument about who would answer, Daniel got to his feet and made his way out into the hall.

"227857." Yeah, Daniel Granger was one of those people who answered the phone by stating their own phone number.

"Dan, I got a problem." came Harry's voice.

"Oh yes?"

"Did you know that turtle doves are a summer migrant?"

"A what?"

"A summer migrant; they turn up in Britain during April and then fly off back to southern Africa around September. How the hell am I supposed to find two of the bloody things in the middle of December?"

"Huh. Well that is a problem."

"Yeah, well this was your idea, so come on; where do I get turtle doves at this time of year? Cos at the moment I'm seriously considering going into a pet shop, buying some turtles and white doves and performing some spell work that is most probably banned by the Ministry."

"That could be interesting," said Dan "But I don't think that Hermione would approve. Why don't you check the Yellow Pages? There's bound to be someone in the country selling these animals."

"Fine. I'll try." muttered Harry "See you."

"See you." replied Dan, although Harry had already hung up. He returned to the dining room where his wife and daughter were waiting on him.

"Who was it dear?" asked Emma.

"Wrong number." Dan answered without meeting either of them in the eye.

Hermione and Emma exchanged looks. He'd been on the phone a long time for a simple wrong number.

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><p>Three hours later Harry slammed his thick copy of the Yellow pages shut with a huff. He had called every single listed pet shop and similar establishment and none of them could offer up even one turtle dove, let alone two. Apparently they weren't "proper pets". He'd been told that by a place that boasted about selling Tarantulas, Pythons and Scorpions.<p>

Fed up, Harry headed out into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Opening the fridge to get the milk, Harry absently noted the open packet of chicken strips. He grabbed the milk bottle and pushed the fridge door shut.

He was pouring the milk into his cup when he nearly spilt it everywhere as a realisation hit him. The chicken. He had gotten it from the butcher. If anywhere had easy access to poultry, it was the butchers' shop.

He doubted that they'd have turtle dove, but partridge was a possibility. He still needed one, and nowhere was it stated that the partridge had to be _alive_.

Harry shoved the milk bottle back into the fridge, grabbed his coat and headed into his living room and towards the front door. As he swung the coat onto his back he knocked the Yellow Pages off of the table by the phone, but he took no notice and quickly left.

Eight butchers' shops later, Harry returned home with no partridge. One had offered a few scraps of a partridge that they had had in earlier, but Harry felt if he were to present Hermione with a dead partridge, he'd need at minimum fifty-one percent of the carcass for it to count.

It was a shame really. Him bringing a live partridge as a present would seem odd, but one that was dead, plucked and prepared for roasting he could probably get away with, although putting a ready to cook partridge in the nearly dead pear tree might raise a few questions.

Defeated, Harry chucked his coat over the back of the armchair, spotted the Yellow Pages on the floor and moved to pick it up.

When he grabbed it, he froze. By accident, he'd found a solution that he hadn't thought of yet.

Taxidermy.

The directory was open on a page listing several taxidermists, advertising their animals-stuffing services.

Harry snatched up the phone and dialled the first number.

Three tries later, he was in luck. Walter the taxidermist was able to confirm that he had two stuffed turtle doves that he was more than happy to sell to Harry, so long as he got there before closing time.

Wasting no time, Harry grabbed his coat, making sure he had his wallet on him, and apparated to a shady looking street in outer Birmingham.

Harry slipped his hand into his pocket and grasped his wand tightly. He wasn't supposed to use magic against Muggles, but this looked like the sort of place where you could end up being mugged. Anyone trying to hold Harry at knife point was going to taste a stunning spell at close range.

Walking along the street, Harry soon came to a door with peeling green paint and a rusty number nine on it. This was the place.

Harry knocked loudly and waited.

And waited.

And then he waited some more.

Finally the door opened and a short ugly man stood there, staring up at his with beady little eyes.

"Wadda you want?"

"Um," responded Harry "I called earlier about the turtle doves?"

The man's previously suspicious eyes lit up in recognition.

"Oh yes, yes. Come in, come in."

Every instinct he had screamed at Harry to run away and run fast. Harry ignored them and stepped inside. Immediately he came face-to-face with a baby giraffe.

"Yikes." Harry muttered, eyeing the thing in disgust.

Walter chuckled "He-he. That's Bernie. I think he likes you."

Harry grimaced and quickly followed Walter as the man headed off down the hallway that seemed to lack lights.

Through the gloom Harry made out the shapes of many stuffed animals, all heaped off to the sides. Foxes, badgers, cats, dogs, wolves, rabbits, hares, crows, pheasants and owls seemed to be amongst the most common. Along the walls hung the mounted heads of lions, leopards, bears, zebra, deer, moose, buffalo, antelope, a rhino and an elephant.

Harry vowed to get his turtle doves and then never come here again.

They turned off of the hallway and up a staircase. Opposite the entrance to this staircase had been another leading downwards. As they continued up, Harry heard noises coming from the other staircase. It sounded like a dog yelping. And then there was what was definitely a gunshot. The dog didn't yelp again.

At the top of the stairs they went into a room, and Walter began rummaging through another heard of stuffed animals (Harry noticed at least three rats that definitely were not stuffed ones). Finally the man emerged clutching two rather tatty looking birds.

Harry took them and asked "How much?"

"Twenty quid." answered Walter.

Harry nodded and reached for his wallet. Walter grabbed his hand and added "Each."

Harry nodded, shoved his wallet back into his pocket and then turned around. He drew his wand, conjured up two fake twenty pound notes and then handed them over.

Walter shoved them into his pocket without checking, and then silence reigned.

Deciding that he might as well ask now that he was here, Harry said "I don't suppose you'd happen to have a partridge as well would you."

"No." replied Walter, gruffly.

"Okay, then." said Harry. Slowly he turned and left, leaving Walter standing there. He made his way down the staircase and into the hallway below. From down the other flight of stairs he could now hear a cat mewling.

Harry ran for the door, hurtled through it and disapparated before anyone could spot him.

It was as well he did, for not a second later three police cars, sirens blaring, along with two vans labelled "RSPCA" came screeching around the corner at the end of the street and skidded to a stop in front of number nine.

Amongst the people in these vehicles was Jerome Devere, an animal rights crusader who had been trying for a long time to get into this place. But this isn't his story, so I'll not bother you with how that went.

* * *

><p>"Good God, Harry! They're disgusting!"<p>

And those kind words were the reward Harry got for his effort.

"Well it's the best I could do." protested Harry.

"You're a prat, you know that?" demanded Hermione before storming away.

Emma went to comfort her.

"Harry, what were you thinking?" asked Daniel.

"I didn't have much choice." said Harry "Besides; there was nothing in the rules to say that the animals had to be alive."

"I would think that that was a given, especially with how Hermione feels about taxidermy."

"Yeah, well…" muttered Harry, setting the unwanted stuffed birds down next to the smelly dead tree.

"Look on the bright side." said Daniel "Tomorrow will be easier. You just need three French hens. How hard can they be to find?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So what do you think? I don't think you can argue with Harry's logic, morbid as it may be.**


	4. Borderline Racist Poultry

**To all Harry/Hermione fans, here's a festive tale for you.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Harry Potter, but who knows what Father Christmas will bring me this year :)**

* * *

><p><span>Harry Potter and the Twelve Days of Christmas<span>

Chapter 4: Borderline Racist Poultry

_16__th__ December 2001._

How hard was it to find three chickens?

Quite hard when you wanted specific ones.

This was the seventeenth farm Harry had visited, and not one of them had any French breeds of chicken. Of Sussex, Scots Grey, Orpington, Dorking, Ixworth, Marsh Dairy, Seabright and Derbyshire Redcap there were plenty, but they were from the United Kingdom. Of Bresse, Faverolles, Houdan, Marans and La Fleche, the French breeds, there were none.

"I can offer you a couple of Australorps." said the first farmer, but an Australian breed was no good to Harry.

"All I've got is Barnevelders." said the second farmer. They were a breed from the Netherlands, and so no good either.

"I've got some Brakels you could buy." said another "They come from Belgium, and that's next to France."

To be honest, many farms later, the Brakels were still Harry's best option.

On the tenth farm that Harry visited, he was shown to the basement of the place. That had proved to be quite a shock, as the man apparently interpreted his request for chickens to mean he wanted to see a cockfight.

Twenty men had been in that room, all standing in a ring and cheering as two roosted pecked and scratched at each other viciously.

Harry got the hell out of there.

Now he was leaving yet another farm empty handed, and to be honest he never wanted to hear the cluck-cluck-clucking of a chicken ever again.

Wondering if he should just go back and buy three of those Belgian chickens and hope that no one checked the breed, Harry apparated back home. There he took off his coat, threw it onto the armchair and collapsed onto the sofa.

Perhaps he could go and see Molly and Arthur. They had chickens, and there was a chance that they had a French breed.

No. He wouldn't go there. Molly had never quite forgiven him for not getting back together with Ginny after the war. Not that that was Harry's fault, of course. It's not as if he forced Ginny to go and snog Michael Corner. In fact it had been very upsetting for Harry when he had discovered them.

Plus Ron might be there. The prick.

Harry found himself growling. He did that whenever he thought of Ron. What the red headed prat did to Hermione still made Harry seethe, even now, several years later. Not that he should complain about that too much, of course; Ron's treatment of Hermione meant that she was Harry's now, and that was why he needed those three French chickens.

"Perhaps I should go to the ministry and see if Kingsley will push through the paperwork for an international port key for me." Harry thought to himself.

Deciding to do just that, Harry grabbed his coat and was just about to apparate to the Ministry, when he realised something. He might not want to go to the Burrow, but he knew of someone else who kept chickens.

* * *

><p>He apparated to Shell Cottage, and, sure enough, there was the chicken coop. Harry had helped Bill to put it up this past summer. Several chickens were in the run, pecking and scratching at the frozen ground.<p>

The door to the shed that stood nearby opened, and out stepped Bill, carrying a bucket containing come chicken feed.

"Hello, Bill." Harry called out to him.

Bill looked around, and smiled upon seeing him "Good afternoon, Harry. What can I do for you?"

"I need some chickens." replied Harry.

"I never had you down as the type to keep poultry, Harry."

"Says the internationally renowned curse-breaker."

Bill laughed "You got me there. So, why the desire to keep chickens?"

"It's kind of a long story."

"Go inside." said Bill "Fleur's in there. I'll be in in a minute; I want to hear this long story."

Harry headed inside and quickly found himself being kissed on each cheek by Fleur.

"Bonjour, Harry." she exclaimed "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for some chickens," replied Harry "And it's a rather long story that Bill wants to hear. So, where's my favourite Goddaughter?"

Fleur happily led Harry to the kitchen, where little Victoire sat in her high chair, a bowl of mashed carrots tipped upside down on her head.

"Now what is going on here?" Harry asked in a playful voice.

Victoire noticed him and immediately broke out into a lot of excited, if nonsensical, jabbering.

"Oh, Victoire" sighed Fleur "Such a mess you've made."

Harry grinned and picked the little one-year old up and took the plastic bowl off of her head. The heap of mushed carrots certainly made her look like a Weasley. Thankfully Victoire had inherited her mother's silvery hair.

As Fleur cleaned Victoire up, Bill came in.

"So, what's the story Harry?"

They sat at the kitchen table, Harry still holding onto Victoire, and he told them about his Christmas mission. It took a little longer than it should have, as Victoire continued to babble happily in his arms, and would pinch him whenever she realised that she didn't have his full attention.

"That's quite a challenge, Harry." said Bill "Especially if you don't want to conjure anything with magic."

"Yeah, and today's the third day, and I need three French hens." said Harry.

Fleur frowned, though her tone was playful "So you decided that seeing as I am French and I keep chickens, that I must keep French chickens."

Harry shrugged "It was worth a shot before taking an international portkey."

Fleur smiled at him "As it happens, I do have something that could help you."

She got up from her seat and headed towards one of the kitchen cupboards mounted on the wall. From within she took a small rectangular box which she set on the table in front of Harry.

"For some reason Fred and George thought that these were an appropriate present for Victoire's birthday." she said by way of explanation.

Opening the box with no small amount of nervousness (and so would you if you were handed a box that had been in the hands of Fred and George Weasley), Harry gently reached in and pulled out one of the objects.

An egg cup.

What's more, it was an egg cup in the shape of a chicken.

And not just any chicken.

This chicken was wearing a black and white striped t-shirt, a black beret and a string of onions around its neck.

Harry reached back into the box and took out two more, one with a baguette under its arm instead of the onions around the neck, and the other with a French flag in his hand.

Stereotypical bordering on offensive? Yes.

French chicken? Definitely.

"These are perfect." announced Harry "How much do you want for them?"

"Just take them." replied Fleur.

Harry shoved them back into the box and closed it.

He continued to visit with the small family for a little longer, but then headed off to Hermione's house.

* * *

><p>Hermione, thankfully, thought that they were funny and the three chicken-shaped, stereotypically French egg cups became the first present that Harry had obtained so far to make it inside the house.<p>

Once Hermione and Emma had ventured back into the house, Dan looked at Harry "Egg cups?"

"Hey, you said no dead animals; nothing was said about them being real animals."

Daniel chuckled and then said "Remember, tomorrow's the fourth."

"Yeah, I know. Four calling birds, right?"

"No, actually. Although that is a popular misconception, the correct lyrics are "Four colly birds."

"What the hell is a colly bird?" asked Harry.

"You'll have to find out for yourself." answered Dan "Now come on, Emma's about to do a light supper."

He led the way inside, where he and Harry joined Hermione in the front room while Emma boiled a few eggs in the kitchen.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So what do you think? The three hens were always going to be egg cups ever since I saw them in the Pound shop. Tacky, yes, but they got the job done for Harry.**

**The French hens are technically considered to be the ****Faverolles breed, which are apparently good layers of eggs, produce good meat, but are mainly for ornamental purposes.**

**In writing this chapter, I found out more about chickens and the French ****than I ever thought I would, though I'll have probably forgotten it all by tomorrow. I also found out quite a bit about America; you know, in that way where you're reading one article on Wikipedia, and then you click a link to another page, and then another, and then another until your reading things that are in no way related to what you originally wanted to research.**

**For those wondering, I struggle with writing out Fleur's accent, so didn't bother.**


	5. Bird Troubles

**To all Harry/Hermione fans, here's a festive tale for you.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Harry Potter, but who knows what Father Christmas will bring me this year :)**

Harry Potter and the Twelve Days of Christmas

Chapter 5: Bird Troubles.

_17__th__ December 2001._

Harry Potter was in a quandary. He usually was. This time, though, his problems were not rampaging Mountain Trolls, giant serpents, soul-sucking wraiths, winged-reptiles with combustive halitosis, pink toads with megalomaniac tendencies or stark-raving mad Dark Lords looking to take over the world.

No Harry Potter's current problem was a simple one:

What the hell is a colly bird?

The key problem here was that this was 2001, so looking things up on Wikipedia like we all do now was not an option available to Harry at this time. Wikipedia was about; in fact it had been launched in January of that very year, and was now nearly a year old. Unfortunately it had comparatively fewer articles then, so it's not as if Harry could type the word colly bird into the Wikipedia search bar, get directed to the Twelve Days of Christmas song and from there follow the link from the words "colly bird" to the page detailing the bird that the term refers to (as I did when researching for this chapter).

So Harry was left to thumb through page after page of books on birds found in the local library, and so far not one of the birds he had read about was called a colly bird.

Harry had long ago resigned himself to reading through every bit of text on every single bird once he realised that many birds had regional names. In fact, given that the Twelve Days of Christmas was first published in England around 1780 (thanks Wikipedia), and was possibly even of French origin in the first place (thanks again Wikipedia), the chances were even greater that the term colly bird was a regional name that had long since fallen out of use.

Harry's being in the library for the past five hours had not gone unnoticed, and the librarian finally made her way over to him.

"Is there something in particular you are looking for?" she asked.

"I'm need to find out what a colly bird is." replied Harry and, at her questioning look, he told her about his task.

"I might have just the thing." she said, and bustled off amongst the shelves. She returned a few moments later with a book entitled "Symbolism in Christmas Carols" which she offered to Harry.

Harry took the book and flicked through to the contents page. He looked up the Twelve Days of Christmas and then turned to the page.

There it was. Halfway down the page, there were two lines:

'_The verse, four calling birds, is actually incorrect. The correct term is "__colly__ bird". What is a colly bird? It is a blackbird. In England a coal mine is called a colliery and colly or collie is a derivation of this and means black like coal.'_

"Blackbird." muttered Harry "It's a blackbird."

He snatched up one of the books on birds and began to flick through. He found the page on common blackbirds and studied the photograph. The male lived up to its name, being black, though with an orange-yellow beak and eye ring, and the females were dark brown and usually had darker spots and streaks on their breasts.

Harry knew this bird. At least a dozen regularly visited the bird table in his garden. He found their song endearing and, what's more, they were most common birds seen in gardens throughout the UK.

He had been sitting in the library for the past five hours trying to find out what the hell a colly bird was, and it turns out they were one of the most common bird in the country, and regular visitors to his garden!

Even better, they didn't migrate, unlike those blasted turtle doves! They would still be about. Harry could go home, put some seed onto his bird table, and watch them arrive from the comfort of his own kitchen.

What could be better?

Deciding to keep the library book for future reference, Harry checked it out and then headed home. In his kitchen he reached into one of his cupboards and pulled out a bag of mixed bird seed. He headed out into the garden and scattered several handfuls over the surface of the bird table before returning to the kitchen.

There he made himself a cup of tea, sat by the window, and waited.

And he waited.

And then he waited some more.

Then a bird flew in and landed in the bird table.

It was a robin.

It pecked at several seeds and then flew off.

Harry waited some more.

Another bird flew in.

It was a blue tit.

It too pecked at what was on offer.

Another blue tit flew in to join it.

And then a great tit flew in.

Then a chaffinch joined them.

Both blue tits flew off.

The robin game back.

A waxwing turned up

The two blue tits came back, landing on the ground below the bird table to peck at some seeds that had been knocked off.

Two more great tits arrived

And another waxwing

Then they were all scared off by the arrival of a woodpigeon.

The woodpigeon left a few moments later.

Then a coal tit landed on the ground.

And next door's cat sprang from behind the holly bush and pounced.

The bird flew away in time, but so did everything else in the garden.

Harry went to his fruit bowl and found an apple that was no longer edible. He opened the kitchen window and threw it at the cat, striking it on its hindquarters.

The cat yowled, hissed at him and then scarpered, scrambling over the fence and back into next door's garden.

"That's right, piss off." muttered Harry, closing the window.

Bloody cat.

Bloody thing was a pest in the summer too, coming over and crapping on the grass and amongst the vegetables.

Harry resumed his waiting.

It was a long time before anything turned up again, and when it did, it was a black bird.

A big black bird.

Unfortunately it was a carrion crow, not an actual blackbird.

Annoying, really. Crows are black, and crows are birds. But not blackbirds. Harry didn't think he'd get away with that.

And he didn't much fancy Hermione's reaction to being presented with four crows.

A second crow landed, so Harry went outside to scare them off before they could eat everything, as crows had a tendency to do whenever they landed on a bird table.

Once the crows had flown off, Harry returned to his kitchen to wait.

Why were there no blackbirds? He'd seen seven of them out there that very morning, so why weren't any of them coming in now, when he needed them?

Bored, Harry opened the library book and flicked to the page about the twelve days of Christmas.

Interestingly, the five gold rings referred not to pieces of jewellery, as was so commonly thought, but to common pheasants, sometimes known as ring-necked pheasants. Although, that was just one thought on the subject. Others thought that the words originally were "five goldspinks". Goldspink was an old name for a goldfinch.

Harry had a feeling that he knew where to get pheasants; he'd seen enough of them when hunting for a partridge. And it would be easier to get five of pheasants than it would to catch five goldfinches. And pheasants were a little less wild, especially if they were bred for a purpose.

A sudden burst of birdsong drew Harry's attention.

He knew that song; he'd heard it regularly since moving here.

Out on the bird table sat two blackbirds; one male and one female.

Perfect.

Gently Harry pushed the window open and took his wand. As he did so, a third blackbird landed; another female.

Even better.

Harry aimed his wand carefully, noting out of the corner of his eye, a fourth bird landing on the wall.

In quick succession Harry let loose a torrent of stunning spells. All three on the bird table he hit, but the one on the wall had taken flight and avoided all his attempts to hit it.

Cursing his luck at missing the last one, Harry grabbed a large cardboard box and headed outside to gather up his three captures.

It was a good job that the neighbours weren't home; otherwise they'd have quite a few questions to ask of him; like how he shot those red lights from a stick, and why he had hit several blackbirds with them.

Harry took his prizes inside, and lined the box with an old newspaper. He closed the box up, put some air holes into it, and then returned to his vigil.

Night crept in before Harry could capture the final blackbird, and he fell asleep, sitting on the kitchen stool, his upper body sprawled over the countertop.

He missed the deadline for day four.

* * *

><p>When Harry awoke, it was to the sounds of birdsong.<p>

Looking up blearily, he found himself looking out at his garden through the kitchen window. Several blackbirds were gathered on and around the bird table.

His task came to the front of his mind instantly. Harry grabbed his wand, threw open the window and opened fire.

He got one.

Harry rushed outside, picked it up and retreated to the kitchen. There he opened the box to put his fourth capture inside, and received quite a show when the other three flew out.

The stunning spells had worn off.

Harry shoved blackbird number four into the box, and then set about recapturing the rest.

In the ensuing chaos, Harry's kitchen and living room suffered quite a bit. Three tables and one armchair were knocked over, as was the Christmas tree, two lamps were broken, there was a chance that the television would never work again, the fruit bowl was upside down, its contents scattered, the kitchen stool was knocked over and the box of cornflakes had fallen to the floor and its contents spread everywhere.

But the important thing was that Harry had all four birds in the box.

And then he remembered something. Today was now the fifth day. He had missed the deadline. If he was to make it up, he hadn't better head off to the Grangers without first procuring five pheasants.

Fortunately he knew exactly were to get them.

* * *

><p>The land rover pulled up, and the gamekeeper got out. He opened the boot and grabbed two buckets of feed.<p>

He walked from his vehicle and over to a small patch of ground where he spread the food out. He walked back to his vehicle and turned around.

Already nearly two dozen pheasants were there, pecking at the food.

"Heh. Enjoy it while you can." he muttered "The shoot's tomorrow."

He got back into his vehicle and drove off.

That's what he did. He raised the pheasants from eggs, set them out into the woodland when they were old enough, and fed them every morning to prevent them wondering off in search of food. Then when the owner of the estate wanted to organise a shoot for him and his friends, they were guaranteed a good haul.

Or at least that was the theory. Even with this unfair advantage, most of them were such crap shots that of the two hundred raised every year; only about fifty would be shot during six shoots.

As such, in recent years, the local pheasant population had exploded.

And it was for that reason that Harry was hiding behind a tree, watching as the vehicle disappeared from view.

After all, if they would ultimately fail to shoot the vast majority of these birds, they were unlikely to miss five of them.

What he could no longer hear the vehicle; Harry drew his wand and went to work. As with the blackbirds the day before, Harry sent out wave after wave of stunning spells, hitting as many as possible. It was hard to aim at individuals, and females wouldn't count, as they didn't have the distinctive ring pattern around the neck.

Once he had as many birds as possible laying stunned on the ground, Harry stowed his wand and made his way over.

Quickly he began to sort through the males and females, but then he noticed something: about only half of the males actually had the ring around the neck.

Briefly, Harry wondered if it really mattered, but in the end he decided that it was best if he were to take just the ones with the ring markings. It wouldn't do to be caught out on a technicality.

Five pheasants tucked under his arm, Harry walked away from the rest. Once he was a good distance away, he cast a wide-range reviving spell. Immediately the remaining birds got up, and they instantly flew off.

Harry had a feeling that that might not be such a good thing.

Shrugging, he disapparated, reappearing back home where he picked up the box of blackbirds before heading over to the Granger's cottage.

The arrival of nine more birds meant that Hermione finally cottoned on to what Harry was up to.

"Harry, is there any particular reason for your bringing me every present from the song "The Twelve Days of Christmas"?"

"Why?" asked Harry "Do you not like them?"

"It's very sweet of you, Harry." said Hermione "But you don't have to."

Harry sent a quick look to Dan before looking directly into Hermione's eyes.

"Yes I do." he replied before disapparating, leaving the grangers surrounded by five unconscious pheasants, a box of four blackbirds, two stuffed turtle doves and one smelly, mostly dead pear tree.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So what do you think? Harry really suffers in a world without Wikipedia. It's hard to remember what life was like without it, isn't it? I can still remember the first time I was introduced to it. I was looking up Dinosaurs for a school project, and Google chucked up the Wikipedia page "List of Dinosaurs". To show you how small Wikipedia was then, go onto that page now and look at all the Dinosaurs listed. When I first went onto that page, only around thirty of them actually linked to a page about the creature itself. My one and only ever contribution to Wikipedia was to create the page for the Dinosaur Cetiosaurus. I checked back today, and of the two lines that I wrote, only the first half of the second line remains as written, though the rest is pretty much still there, jumbled in and highly embellished upon.**

**That was six years ago. I've been out of school longer than I thought!**


	6. A Slight Error in the Calculations

**To all Harry/Hermione fans, here's a festive tale for you.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Harry Potter, but who knows what Father Christmas will bring me this year :)**

Harry Potter and the Twelve Days of Christmas

Chapter 6: A Slight Error in the Calculations.

_18__th__ December 2001._

Having delivered presents four and five that very morning, a part of Harry felt as though he ought to reward himself with the rest of the day off. Fortunately Harry's more sensible side won out and he went in search of the next day's present. Even more fortunately, the song was not specific as to the kind of goose required, though given that they are stated to be "_laying_" it was safe to assume that all of them had to be female.

So one trip to a poultry farm later, Harry James Potter was the proud owner of three Embden geese and three Shetland geese.

Finally Harry was a day ahead of himself, and now, he decided, was time to relax.

All six geese were shut in the shed to keep them from wandering off, and making a hell of a lot of noise to boot.

The farmer whom Harry had purchased the geese from had been kind enough to include a book entitled "A how to keep Geese" (bet you can't guess what it's about) and it was this that Harry decided to read during his down-time. After all, there was a distinct change that the geese would be sticking around for a while, and someone had to know how to look after them.

"_While geese were among the first animals to be domesticated," _he read "_they were not, and still are not, as common as chickens in barnyards. The reason is that they are not as prolific as chickens in terms of egg laying. While chickens lay eggs regularly, geese only lay 30 to 50 eggs per year. This limits their usefulness as egg producers and also means that it takes longer to increase the size of the flock for meat production."_

Wait, what? 30 to 50 eggs per year? Was that right?

Well crap. Even if a goose did lay the maximum of fifty eggs per year; that was still not even one egg per week. Was it even worth keeping them for their eggs? Or even for meat production?

Of course, having six geese did increase the chances of getting an egg, but the song clearly states that all six geese were meant to be laying. What were the chances that six geese, who individually were unlikely to lay as many as fifty eggs per year, would all happen to each produce one of those eggs on the nineteenth of December of one particular year? There was a one in fifty change that a single goose would lay and egg on that day, or was it one in fifty two? No, wait… one in seven... no, that wasn't right… but… no… _Argh_! Hermione was the one to do maths like that, not Harry.

It didn't matter what the _actual _statistics were, all Harry needed to know that the chances of six geese all laying an egg on the same specific day were relatively miniscule!

Damn.

* * *

><p>It was mid-afternoon when Harry drove up the dirt track that led to the farmhouse. On seeing him pull up, the farmer, who had just been off to feed his dog, made his way over.<p>

"Not bringing 'em back, I 'ope." he asked.

"No, no." replied Harry "I just need a few more."

"'Ow many more?"

"Fifty four." replied Harry.

That's right, you heard. Harry Potter wanted to have a grand total of sixty geese.

There was logic to this. As noted above, it is highly unlikely that six geese, who individually only lay a maximum of fifty eggs per year, would all manage to lay an egg each tomorrow. Harry figured that increasing the number of geese he had by a multiple of ten could only increase the odds that six of them would produce eggs tomorrow by a factor of ten.

Hermione might have been the brainy one, but even Harry could work out that increasing his chances by a multiple of ten could only work in his favour.

Right?

The famer eyes his suspiciously for a moment, wondering what the hell this random bloke wanted with sixty geese, but then decided "_Who was he to ask questions_?"

He gave a nod and muttered "Righ'. Follow me."

* * *

><p>"In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In. In."<p>

That was the sound of Harry trying to shove sixty fully grown geese into his six-foot by eight-foot garden shed.

He probably should have taken the wheelbarrow, spade, bucket and gardening fork out first so as to make more room.

Finally he managed to get the last one in and shove the door shut behind them.

This might sound cruel, but Harry figured that they came from a battery farm, so they were pretty much used to this.

And it was only for the one night.

Back in his front room, Harry once again opened his book on geese and turned to the section about egg laying.

"_Geese require a shelter where they will lay their eggs. Each goose will require at minimum four square feet of space. It will need to be filled with straw for bedding. It is also recommended that you add nest boxes outside the shelter. Geese will also lay their eggs in these. These can be created by filling a crate or an open-topped box with straw."_

Harry wasn't entirely sure that how Hermione was planning on keeping her blackbirds or pheasants, but he figured that it was likely the keeping of the Geese would fall to him.

Well, they were only going to keep six of the geese, depending on which of them laid eggs tomorrow. That meant they'd need a twelve foot by eight foot shelter.

Harry flipped the book shut and muttered "Oh well, off to the garden centre again."

* * *

><p>Harry once again forced his way through the throng of excited people shopping for Christmas decorations and once again found his favourite elf that wasn't Dobby on her break and smoking a cigarette. Once again she summoned the bespectacled Ian who slowly led Harry to a display of garden sheds. Harry wasn't entirely sure that a shed was quite what the book had meant about a shelter for the geese, but then what else was there?<p>

There were no twelve by eight sheds, and closest was ten by eight. In the end, Harry decided Hermione might appreciate it more if he gave the geese more room instead of less, so he brought the next available size up: fourteen by twelve.

"I sure hope that Hermione appreciates this." Harry thought as he dragged the flat-packed shed out to his car.

Hang on… how the hell was he supposed to get home?

Oh, right, he was a wizard.

Harry apparated home, dropped off the shed and then returned for the car.

* * *

><p>As is typical with most things purchased in the UK, the shed's assembly instructions came with nothing written in English, and diagrams that seemed to apply more to a chest of drawers than it did a shed, and so Harry was left to put the thing together himself.<p>

It took him well into the night.

Around half past eleven, a couple were making their way home from the pub and they passed Harry's garden. This is what they heard:

'_Bang_.' "Ow." '_Bang_.' '_Bang_.' '_Bang_.' '_Bang_.' '_Bang_.' '_Bang_.' '_Bang_.' "Ow." '_Bang_.' "Ow." '_Bang_.' '_Bang_.' '_Ting_.' "Shit! Where did that go?"

* * *

><p><em>19<em>_th__ December 2001._

Despite his lack of sleep the night before, Harry got to the market early the next morning and purchased every empty crate he could. Then, substituting straw with newspaper, Harry made them up into nest boxes.

Then he spent the next three and a half hours herding sixty rumbled and highly disgruntled geese from his cramped and possibly forever ruined garden shed to his rather precarious looking attempt at a goose shelter.

When he got them all inside, he slammed the door shut and grabbed a hold of his wand.

Thankfully being an Auror meant that he was allowed to cast a port-key charm whenever he wanted.

"_Portus_."

He grabbed on and he, the shed and the geese inside were transported to their new destination.

* * *

><p>Hermione and Emma Granger were stood together on the back steps of their house, each drinking a mug of hot chocolate and admiring the winter scene when the unthinkable happened.<p>

The Tardis landed.

Or at least, for a second, that's what Hermione had thought had happened.

Then she realised that it was a shed that had appeared from thin-air. Judging from the way it spun when it appeared, she supposed it must have been a port-key. In fact the human body that was thrown several feet from it seemed to confirm that belief.

And then the she fell over on its side.

Not good.

And then the door broke open.

Also not good.

In an explosion of feathers and shredded newspaper a whole gaggle of geese erupted through the door of the shed and out into the garden, honking and hissing loudly.

At least a dozen of these birds went for the person who had arrived with the shed and began attacking him.

"Is that Harry?" asked Emma.

Hermione listened for a moment to the shouts and cries of pain.

Yeah, it was Harry.

She chucked her cup down in the snow and then marched across the garden, blasted the geese attacking Harry with a knockback jinx, then grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him to his feet. Together the scrambled to the house, getting through the back door with Emma slamming it shut in just the nick of time. The geese had been on their ankles.

"What the hell is going on?" asked Dan as he entered the room.

Leading against the door and panting, Hermione replied "Harry's here and he's brought geese."

"And they're a little hacked off." added Harry.

Suddenly Emma's eye's widened with fear "The kitchen window's open."

Harry and Hermione raced towards the kitchen. Sure enough, standing on the draining board, before the open window was a goose. With an angry his it jumped down and charged Harry who backed away into Dan, knocking him over. Three more geese burst through the window as Hermione nailed the first with a stunning spell.

"The window, Harry!" Hermione screamed as she took down another bird "Get to the window and close it!"

Harry had to fight his way through several very angry geese in order to get to the window; several pecked viciously at his feet as others flapped maddeningly around his head.

Dan and Emma both now entered the fray, each jumping on a goose and wrestling it to the ground.

"Harry, shut the window!" cried Hermione as she fought frantically against the growing flock that was wrecking the kitchen.

"I can't." yelled Harry, and he couldn't. No matter how hard he pushed, the sliding window did not seem to want to budge.

"Harry, for the love of God shut the effing window!" bellowed Dan.

Harry looked around for something to help him, but there was nothing. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye Harry saw something that definitely was not a goose perch in the window frame.

Harry's eyes met the pheasant's, and for a moment they stared at each other.

Then the pheasant gave Harry's hand a rather nasty peck.

"Ouch!" he yelled, stepping back.

"Ouch!" he yelled again when a flying goose pecked the top of his head.

Officially pissed off now, Harry grabbed the nearly full bottle of fairy liquid washing up soak from next to the sink and blasted every flying thing in the room with it, also covering just about everything else. Then he blasted the pheasant, causing it to fall outside backwards with surprise. He sent a powerful blast through the window to deter any more would-be incomers, and then splashed what remained along the base of the window frame. Then, with one massive shove, he forced the window shut, just in time for three geese, a pheasant and a blackbird to slam into the glass.

Harry turned to the others in the room to see them glaring at him, covered in green soak and white feathers.

"Well there's something to be said for the turtle doves being dead." Harry observed brightly, before nearly jumping out of his skin at the sight of the three chickens.

"Relax, Harry." said Hermione "They're only egg cups."

"Right." said Harry "Um, now what?"

"I've got some calming draught upstairs." replied Hermione "We can use that to calm them down."

Harry nodded and the two left the room.

Dan moved to collect the broom from the cupboard, but slipped and fell flat on his back.

"Serves you right." Emma told him. She knew about Harry's mission, and was not best pleased.

Upstairs, Hermione opened her old school trunk and took out four phials containing calming draughts. She handed two of these to Harry, and then led the way over to the bedroom window. From there, she and Harry poured the potions over the mob of birds below. The fumes and vapours were enough to finally calm the creatures.

Harry turned, smiling, but was met with a scowling Hermione.

"Hey, come on." said Harry, trying to lighten the mood "look on the bright side: at least it wasn't a _murder_ of crows."

Hermione just thwacked him on the side of the head with her knuckles and left the room in a huff.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So what do you think? Again, I don't think Harry's logic can really be faulted, just his calculations, and his method. I am well aware that some breeds of domestic geese will produce a few more eggs per year than stated here, but the impression I got was that thirty to fifty per year was about average.**


	7. So They Really Can Break Arms

**To all Harry/Hermione fans, here's a festive tale for you.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Harry Potter, but who knows what Father Christmas will bring me this year :)**

Harry Potter and the Twelve Days of Christmas

Chapter 7: So They Really Can Break Arms…

_20__th__ December 2001._

All in all, yesterday had not ended well.

Once everything had calmed down, and the goose shelter was put back upright, the waiting began.

Harry's decision to wait on sixty geese, rather than six, to produce some eggs proved to be a good one, as seven of the birds hopped up into a nest box and laid their eggs.

The first six were left at Hermione's house and Harry herded the rest back into the shelter and port keyed them to the goose farm from where he had obtained them.

And that was where the next problem came in.

_The farmer opened his door, took one look at Harry, and then slammed it shut again._

"_Hey!" exclaimed Harry loudly._

"_Go 'way!" came a shout from the other side of the door._

"_Sir, I've come to return these geese that I got from you yesterday." Harry said through the door._

"_Don't wan' 'em" the farmer shouted back._

"_I don't either." said Harry._

"_Tough, now go 'way."_

_Harry pushed open the letterbox and shouted through "But you're a goose farmer."_

"_Not anymore. I'm closin' up. Now go 'way."_

"_Hey come on!"_

_There was no reply._

"_Hey! Hey! Oh come on. What the hell am I supposed to do with fifty four geese?"_

And that is why, on the 20th December, 2001; Harry Potter awoke to the blurred sight of a goose standing over him.

"What the…?" he muttered.

Then the goose pecked him, quite hard, right between the eyes.

"Ouch. Damn it!" Harry shouted "Gerroff you stupid bird."

And with a sweeping motion with his left arm, Harry knocked the goose from the bed.

Harry got out of bed and, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he made his way to the bathroom, walking around a dozen geese to get there.

Harry flipped on the tap in the sink, grabbed his toothbrush and began brushing. He looked into the mirror above the sink and nearly choked at what he saw.

He spun around and confirmed that the mirror was not playing tricks with him. His bathtub was full of water, and five geese were milling about on its surface.

Harry did not remember filling the bath for them, and it was definitely a shower he took last night.

Ten minutes later, Harry was sitting at the kitchen table, reading yesterday's local area newspaper, and eating a slice of toast.

Something caught his eye, and he set his toast down to read it carefully.

The butchers on Fairstreet were advertising twenty percent off of sausages, bacon and mincemeat. He completely missed the article on the disastrous pheasant shoot that had occurred up on the estate. All the pheasants had disappeared, most likely having fled, but the police were involved none-the-less, given how an estimated £3,000 worth of bird had just up and disappeared.

Harry reached for his toast again, but found an empty plate.

Looking around, he saw it. Or at least what was left of it. Several geese were fighting over it.

Harry sighed heavily, and then went to grab his cup of tea. Just as he did so, one goose was successful in snatching the piece of toast for itself and with several great and frantic flaps of its wings; it rose up and over the surface of the table. The tea cup went flying across the table, spilling its contents everywhere, rolled off the edge opposite Harry and hit the ground with a crash.

With another heavy sigh, Harry got to his feet and fought his way through the gaggle of geese until he could get to the front door of his house, which he wrenched open and then slammed shut behind him.

Today was a new day, and as such, Harry required another gift for Hermione; today it was "seven swans a swimming".

What could possibly go wrong?

Well with yesterday's unintentional recreating of Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds", anything was possible.

Fortunately, Harry knew a place where swans just might reside, and so he apparated to the house of an old friend.

He didn't even need to knock on the door. She was already outside, picking dirigible plums off of the bush outside the front door of the house.

"Hullo, Harry Potter." she greeted him without turning around.

"Hi Luna, how're you doing?" asked Harry with a smile.

"Very well, thank you." she replied, turning around to face him.

She frowned. "Harry Potter, you are infested with Wrackspurts."

"Am I?" he asked.

"Yes." replied Luna "They are fogging your mind. But they are not why you are here…"

"No." answered Harry "I need a favour from you."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I need seven swans."

"Swans?"

"Yeah, swans. Seven of them."

Luna nodded "Alright then."

She began walking off. Harry followed.

They crossed a bridge that went over a stream. Harry assumed that this was the Bottom Bridge he had heard about, where Luna sometimes went fishing for gulping plimpies.

Once on the other side, they followed it upstream a short way and came to a small lake. There, bobbing on the surface, apparently unaffected by the coldness of the water, were at least thirty swans.

Harry took in the sight of them for a few moments.

To be honest, he was quite sick of birds.

"Luna, I will trade you fifty four geese of assorted breeds for seven swans."

"Deal." she announced "You get your geese; I will round up seven swans."

She walked off with an air of determination.

Harry apparated back home and stunned every single goose there. He conjured a large sack, threw them all in, and then apparated back to the lake.

What he saw surprised him.

Luna was walking towards him, playing a flute. Behind her were seven swans, all quite happy to follow her.

Harry emptied the sack of geese onto the dirt, stunned all seven swans and shoved them into the sack.

"You really should treat them better, Harry Potter." Luna admonished.

"Trust me Luna," replied Harry "If you'd had the sort of week I've had, you'd care for the wellbeing of birds as little as I do."

She smiled at him and said "Go give Hermione her present."

Harry stared at her in confusion "How did you…?"

"Susan Bones told me." she replied "She's quite upset that you haven't been keeping her and your other co-workers up to date with your mission."

"I'll give her a floo call later." said Harry, picking up the sack and slinging it over his shoulder before remembering something "Oh, hey, Luna? I don't suppose you know where I can get a partridge?"

Luna shook her head "I'm afraid not."

Harry's shoulders slumped a little.

"Alright, well, thanks for the swans."

"You're quite welcome." she answered.

Harry disapparated and Luna used her wand to revive all of the geese.

"Right, come along then." she said, once they were all back on their feet. She put the flute to her lips and walked off, the geese following happily behind her.

* * *

><p>"Oh, not more birds." complained Hermione as Harry unloaded the sack of stunned swans into the snow-covered lawn.<p>

"Yes more birds." replied Harry "But I promise, this is your last lot. There are no more birds in the song after the swans. Now, where's your pond?"

"We don't have a pond here, Harry." replied Hermione.

"Damn." cursed Harry, before something occurred to him "Hang on, I'll be back in a minute."

Hermione gave an exasperated sigh as he disapparated.

What the hell had gotten into him?

* * *

><p>Following Harry's knock, the door to the house opened.<p>

Andromeda Tonks smiled at him "Harry, how lovely to see you again."

Harry grinned "Hey, Andi. Are Remus and Dora in?"

"Yes they are, come on in." Andromeda led Harry inside.

Remus and Dora were in the front room in front of the fire with their three year old son Teddy.

After a few minutes of polite conversation, Harry got around to the reason for his visit.

"You remember the paddling pool I got for Teddy's last birthday? Well I need to borrow it."

"This for your Christmas challenge?" asked Dora.

"You heard about that?" asked Harry.

"You kidding?" asked Dora "It's been all anyone at work can talk about for that past week."

"Oh, well, yes you're right." said Harry "I've got the seven swans, now I just need something for them to swim in."

Dora smirked, handed Teddy over to Remus and left the room with an "I'll go and get it."

"So, how's the rest of the mission gone so far?" asked Remus.

"Could be worse, I suppose." answered Harry "The pear tree is dying, the turtle doves are dead, the geese like to rally the blackbirds and pheasants into partaking in would-be murderous activities, I've been pecked more times than I care to recall, the French hens border on racist and I have no partridge, but apart from that…"

Remus and Andromeda chuckled.

Dora returned, dragging a mass of blue-coloured PVC.

"Here we are." she announced "Sorry it's not boxed."

"That's not a problem." said Harry, taking it from her "Well, I hate to leave so soon, but the sooner I can get this inflated and filled with water, the sooner my seven swans will be swimming. See you."

* * *

><p>Hermione watched through the kitchen window as Harry used a hosepipe to fill the kiddie's splash pool. He had inflated it using her dad's motorised air compressor, usually used to inflate tyres, and was now patiently awaiting the water's rise to a satisfactory level.<p>

She turned from the window to face her mother.

"Can you try and talk him out of this?" she asked.

Emma shook her head "Sorry, honey. He's your man."

Hermione huffed in annoyance, and then there was a knock on the door.

She opened it to reveal a grinning Harry.

"It's ready." he announced.

Reluctantly Hermione followed Harry outside, and then patiently spent the next ten minutes watching as he tried to coerce the swans into entering the pool.

Dan and Emma came outside to see what was going on just as Harry got the seventh and last swan into the pool.

Harry stood up straight, a proud look on his face.

"See?" he asked.

At that moment, a goose wandered by. It gave the side of the pool a violent jab with its beak, hitting a seam, which burst. The subsequent rush of air caused the swans to panic, and the torrent of water leaving the pool did not help matters.

The goose scarpered as the swans panicked.

One flew right at Dan and crashed into him. Both fell to the ground, and the swan scrambled away.

"Ah, my arm!" cried Dan.

Emma crouched down next to him and examined his right arm.

"Huh. I guess that they can break arms after all."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So what do you think? I don't think that this one if a good as the others, but thinking of ways to obtain seven kinds of birds is frustrating. I've got good ones for the remaining presents, though.**


	8. Got Milk?

**To all Harry/Hermione fans, here's a festive tale for you.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Harry Potter, but who knows what Father Christmas will bring me this year :)**

* * *

><p><span>Harry Potter and the Twelve Days of Christmas<span>

Chapter 8: Got Milk?

_21__st__ December 2001._

Neville gathered up the drinks and walked from the bar to the table where Hannah, Susan and Luna were sitting around Harry, who had his head in his hands.

"I can't believe I broke Dan's arm." Harry muttered.

"You didn't break it." said Susan "The swan did."

"And it's his fault that the swan was there to break his arm." said Hannah, consolingly "After all, this was his idea."

"Here." said Neville, passing Harry a large, frothing mug of ale "Get that down you."

Harry took the mug and stared at it morosely.

"The whole point of this was to get in good with Hermione's family." he moped.

"Oh, Harry." said Luna with a sigh "Hermione's family already like you."

"Yes," agreed Susan "this whole thing is down to Dan letting his fears for his daughter get the better of him."

"Exactly." said Neville "That's why he asked you to do this, and that's also why you are doing this; to prove that, at least when applied to you, his fears and concerns are unnecessary. Any good father would be the same."

This earned him odd looks from Hannah and Susan. Luna was absentmindedly trying to spear an olive on the end of her cocktail umbrella.

Neville blushed a little at Hannah and Susan's looks, and so tried to explain himself "I mean… er, any father would look out for his daughter, right? Any father wants to make sure his daughter is married to a man who will look out for her and treat her with respect, and, well, do right by her, right? Just not necessarily to the extent that Daniel has gone to…"

"Yeah, I get it Neville." said Harry, before putting the mug of ale to his lips and taking a large gulp.

It was lunchtime, and the group of five were in the Leaky Cauldron, trying to cheer Harry up.

"How is Dan's arm, anyway?" asked Hannah, after a few minutes of silence.

Harry couldn't help but smile a little as he answered.

"His arm's fine. The doctors fixed it right up, and it's now in a cast."

Neville frowned "Couldn't Hermione have fixed him up?"

Harry actually grinned now "She offered, but Emma was pretty adamant that he have it healed the muggle way. I think it's her way of showing her disapproval of what he put me up to."

This got a chuckle out of the others, and an "I should think so too." from Susan.

Harry smiled brightly, but it faltered "Look guys, thanks for the pep talk, but the truth is; I'm fresh out of ideas. Today if they eighth day, and I have no idea where to get today's present."

"Don't you think about giving up, Harry Potter." admonished Luna in an uncharacteristic tone of voice "Neville's right; Hermione's dad put you up to this so that you can prove to him that trusting you to care for his daughter is not a mistake. Don't prove his fears right."

"But where am I meant to get "eight maids a milking"?" asked Harry.

"Well you've got three maids sitting around you." said Susan with a smile "And I doubt that it will be too hard to find five more that will help you out."

"And if we end up one short, I'm sure I've got a dress that Neville could borrow." added Hannah with a cheeky grin that caused Neville to blush and stutter and Harry to choke on his ale.

Harry gave a big cough to clear his throat and said "That's all very well and good, but it's supposed to be a gift. I can't exactly give eight of you to Hermione."

"True." said Luna "But you can_ give_ her the _sight_ of eight maids a milking."

"Yeah, and you can give her the milk." added Susan.

Harry sat back in his seat and thought for a moment.

"I'm not sure it counts if my friends help me…" he began.

Neville waved off his concerns "Ah, but what better way to prove that you can take care of Hermione than proving that you have friends that would help you to do it?"

Harry smiled "Alright. But where do I get eight cows?"

Neville gave Harry a meaningful look and said "And where in the song does it state that it is cows that are being milked?"

Harry frowned a little, before his eyes widened with realisation. He downed the rest of his ale, stood up and announced "To the Hog's Head!"

Neville laughed and followed Harry out of the Leaky Cauldron.

Luna, Hannah and Susan watched them go with fond expressions before turning to each other.

"Well I guess we'd better find up five more maids." announced Hannah.

"Remember," said Luna "that the maids in this case refer unmarried women."

Susan turned to Hannah "I guess that rules you out then, Han."

Hannah held up her hand "There ain't no ring on this finger yet."

Laughing the three got up and went to contact a few friends.

* * *

><p>The door to the Hogs Head opened with a loud creak, meaning that every eye in the place was on Harry and Neville as they entered.<p>

The owner of the Inn came out from a back room. His eyes lit up at the sight of the two newcomers.

"Ah, Mr Potter and Mr Longbottom. What can I get you?"

"Nothing to drink today, Ab." said Harry "We're in the market for, well, other things."

Aberforth Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at them "Oh?"

"Yeah." said Harry, leaning over the bar to as to not be overheard "Listen, are you still in the goat trade?"

* * *

><p>Thanking the greengrocer, Hermione picked up the two brown paper bags filled with fruits and vegetables and then made her way out of the shop.<p>

Snuggling into the thick woollen scarf around her neck, trying to keep the cold air off of her face, Hermione began to walk up the street.

As she walked, her thoughts turned to Harry.

In short, Harry Potter was her everything; her best friend, her lover, the one person she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. It had taken her a while to see that, and now that she had, she could hardly wait for the day when she got to announce her love for him in front of all of their friends and family.

She hoped that Harry would propose this Christmas; she's dropped enough hints. Harry might have a few issues with emotions due to his loveless upbringing, but surely even he would have noticed when she left a jewellery catalogue on the arm rest of his favourite armchair, open on the page of several diamond-studded rings that were perfect engagement rings.

However, Harry's behaviour over the past week worried her. For some reason he had gotten it into his head that he ought to shower her with all the gifts from the Christmas carol "The Twelve Days of Christmas" and it seemed that nothing would stop him, not even Hermione herself asking him.

Hermione scowled. Someone had put Harry up to this. Given how her father seemed to be in the doghouse with her mother, Hermione suspected she knew exactly who had put the ridiculous idea into Harry's head. Now it was just a question as to what to do about it.

As she neared the gate to the cottage in which she lived with her parents, Hermione was quite surprised to see Neville waiting for her.

Immediately she began to panic. Was it Harry? Had he been hurt? She was well aware that today was the day of the eighth gift. Was that it? Harry didn't have the best track record in the way of the animals so far, had there been a stampede of cows?

As she reached Neville, he took the bags from her arms.

"Neville, what's going on?" she asked nervously. She noted that Neville was smiling, so it couldn't have been that bad.

"Come on." was his only reply as he led the way to the gate.

Once in the garden, Hermione stopped and stared at the sight before her.

Luna Lovegood, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Katie Bell, Parvati Patil, Padma Patil, Lavender Brown and Leanne Simms were standing in her garden, all dressed as milkmaids, each standing by a wooden three-legged stool, and each holding a metal pail in their hands.

"What the-" Hermione exclaimed.

"Hermione Granger," announced Neville "this is your eighth gift. Allow us present eight maids a milking."

As Hermione watched, two geese and a pheasant scattered as Harry came around the side of the house leading a line of eight goats, which were all tethered together. Harry seemed to be having much more luck with these than he had had with any of the birds.

The eight goats happily lined up alongside the stools, and each of the milkmaids took a seat.

Harry approached Hermione, took her hand and led her along the line to watch as her friends began to milk the goats.

Emma and Dan came out of the house to observe as well.

"Harry, you got our friends to help you with this?" Hermione finally asked.

"Yeah." replied Harry "You mean everything to me, Hermione. And they want to help me prove it."

Hermione turned to him and hugged him "You don't have to prove anything to me, Harry."

"I know." he replied, and Hermione caught his quick glance towards her father.

That confirmed it, but now was not the time to argue about it, and thankfully her father remained quiet about the animals here being goats instead of cows.

Harry looked along the line, and noticed a problem.

"Hey, Katie, why aren't you milking?"

Katie frowned, although in a good natured way "Well, this goat ain't exactly lactating."

"What d'you mean?" asked Harry confused.

In answer, Katie merely pointed downwards.

Harry and Hermione shared a look before stepping over to Katie's goat and crouching down to look beneath it.

"Ah." said Harry on seeing the problem "Whoops."

Hermione, fortunately, saw the funny side and broke down in a fit of giggles.

A gender error might have meant that there was a little less milking going on that there was supposed to be, but this was more than made up for by the fact that Hermione, for the first time so far, really enjoyed her gift.

And in the end, that is what really mattered.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So what do you think? Harry's finally getting help, Hermione's finally clocked on to what's going on, she's enjoyed one of her gifts, and we've had more than a few cameos. Yay!**


	9. Dancing and Leaping

**To all Harry/Hermione fans, here's a festive tale for you.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Harry Potter, but who knows what Father Christmas will bring me this year :)**

***I'd like to do a little shout out here. Panther Eyes, in your review of chapter five, you asked that I give Harry a little break. I intend to do so in this chapter, though not in the way you might think***

* * *

><p><span>Harry Potter and the Twelve Days of Christmas<span>

Chapter 9: Dancing and Leaping

_22__nd__ December 2001._

Harry had his hands shoved in his pockets to keep them warm as he, Neville, Luna, Susan and Hannah made their way along the street of a muggle shopping district.

Luna had a notebook in her hand, and was happily scribbling down names as the others voiced them.

"Fleur." suggested Susan.

"We've got Fleur down already." said Hannah.

"Oh, right."

"Luna, read out the list." requested Neville.

Luna cleared her throat and read out "Fleur, Dora, Andi, Hestia, Angelina and Alicia. We need three more."

"McGonagall?" suggested Hannah, causing the others to burst out laughing. None of them had any doubt that McGonagall would be happy to give Harry a hand in his mission, but it seemed unlikely that she would be willing to dance around for Hermione's amusement.

Just then, Harry came to a sudden stop, causing Luna, who had been laughing too hard to pay attention, to walk straight into the back of him. She bounced off of him and would have fallen to the pavement had Susan not been behind her to catch her.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Hannah.

Harry nodded towards a display in a shop window "I think I've found another dancing lady."

The others all turned to look where he was and saw a music box. It was open, revealing the figure of a ballerina that slowly rotated in time with the music. Beneath the lid was a circular mirror, reflecting the image of the ballerina.

Without another word, Harry entered the shop.

He came back out five minutes later looking a little glum.

"Well, I got it." he stated "Unfortunately, they didn't have any more. I think the phrase "You should've been in here last week; we had loads of them then" is about the most useless thing a sales assistant can possible say."

Bag in hand; Harry began leading the others down the street. He'd not gone more than two steps when;

"Harry, look out!" shouted Neville.

Harry trod on the patch of black ice. His foot slipped out from beneath him and he crashed to the ground, the bag containing the music box hitting the pavement hard.

Neville grabbed Harry by the arm and pulled him up as Luna grabbed the bag. She took out the box, and saw that it was badly chipped on one corner. She flipped open the lid and saw that the mirror was smashed, although the figure of the ballerina was fine.

She tilted the box slightly, and a wide smile appeared on her face.

"Oh, Harry."

* * *

><p>"… and why you thought it would be a good idea to put Harry up to this, I'll never know!" Hermione ranted. Having spent the better part of the last twenty-four hours mulling it over in her mind, she had decided to just let rip into her father for putting silly ideas into Harry's head.<p>

"But Hermione…" Dan began in the hopes of defending himself, but there was a knock on the door.

Emma got up from her position on the sofa and answered. She came back a few moments later.

"Hermione, Harry's here. And he's come with a few of your friends."

Hermione sent one last glare at her father before turning to smile welcomingly at Harry.

"Hey Harry." she greeted before moving in for a kiss. Harry happily responded.

"Hey yourself." he replied with a grin after their kiss ended "I've got you a present."

With a smile and a roll of her eyes, Hermione took the bag and pulled out the music box.

She opened it, took one look at what was inside, closed it again, set it down on the coffee table, gave Harry a huge kiss and then announced to her parents that she and her friends were off out.

No one argued.

"She barely looked at it." muttered Dan.

"Probably because she finds the task you set Harry to be an insult to her." answered Emma, taking the music box off of the table. She opened it and smiled.

Dan leaned over and observed "The mirror's broken."

Emma handed it to him "That's the trick to it. You have to view it from the right angle."

Dan held the box up and slowly rotated its angle slightly until he arrived at the right one.

The mirror might have broken, but when viewed from the right angle, the shards each reflected the ballerina from a slightly different angle. Eight shards of glass meant eight reflections, making a total of nine ballerinas visible.

Dan sighed closed the box and set it back on the coffee table and looked at Emma, who was smirking.

"Look, I'm sorry alright?"

Emma shook her head "It's not me you need to apologise to."

Dan gave another sigh "You're right. When Harry and Hermione get back, I'll apologise to them."

But Harry and Hermione did not come back that night. At Hermione's insistence, they returned to Harry's home, where they fell asleep in front of the fire, Hermione curled up to Harry's side, and a warm blanket covering the both of them.

* * *

><p><em>23<em>_rd__ December 2001._

The next day, Harry insisted on taking Hermione to the Ministry of Magic, for reasons that she could not fathom.

She was made to wait outside the Minister's office while Harry went in for a word with Kingsley. Both men exited not three minutes later, smiling brightly.

As Harry returned to Hermione's side, Kingsley went over to his assistant and handed her a piece of parchment "Mandy, I'd like you to send for these people immediately."

Mandy Brocklehurst nodded and headed off.

"Come on, Harry. Let's go." said Hermione, standing.

"Hold on." said Harry, grabbing her hand "We're not done here yet."

"What?" asked Hermione, bewildered.

"Hermione, you know those Wizengamot members who turned down your proposals for Elf rights?" Harry asked.

Hermione scowled "Yes, I do." she practically growled. Those men had completely crushed fifteen months of work without even hearing her out and threw her out of the room, calling her a jumped-up Muggleborn upstart.

Harry smiled "How does a bit of revenge sound?"

Hermione's scowl turned into a wide smile and she retook her seat at Harry's side, eagerly anticipating whatever it was that Harry seemed to have cooked up with the Minister.

One by one, the men Harry had reminded Hermione of came through the door and hurried into the Minister's office.

Hermione was so excited about what Harry had planned; she completely missed the fact that there were ten of them.

Twenty minutes after the last man had arrived, still nothing had happened, and Hermione was starting to feel a little disappointed.

Just as she was about to ask Harry about what was going on, however, he stood up and began to wave his wand in an intricate pattern, aiming it at the floor.

Hermione was far from certain, but she got the feeling that Harry had just changed what the floor was made of.

The door to the Minister's office opened again and the ten men began to make their way across the room.

With a large grin on his face, Harry turned to Hermione and said "And now for today's gift, allow me to present ten lords a leaping."

He fired of a bludgeoning spell at one point on the floor and a massive ripple appeared, like the ones you get when you drop a stone in a pond. The ripple quickly expanded, raced across the room and launched the ten men into the air.

The effect was instant. The floor was now just like the structure of a bouncy castle, and after being flung up, there was very little that the ten men could do to stop themselves from bouncing all over the place.

Technically, the ten lords were bouncing, not leaping, but Hermione clearly didn't care. At least if you went by her laughter, anyway. Harry loved seeing her laugh.

Mandy was still seated behind her desk, clearly trying to hold in her laughter. Kingsley was not showing the same resistance and chuckled heartily.

Harry, however, was smiling for a completely different reason. He had successfully given Hermione her tenth present, and in the process gotten revenge on those who had so viciously stomped on her dreams.

Talk about killing two birds with one stone!

Perhaps that's not the best analogy to use...

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So what do you think? I know its two in one, and I know that the chapter is short, but it works. I think that chapter 10 might be the last chapter of this.**


	10. The Grand Finale

**To all Harry/Hermione fans, here's a festive tale for you.**

**Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Harry Potter, but who knows what Father Christmas will bring me this year :)**

Harry Potter and the Twelve Days of Christmas

Chapter 10: The Grand Finale

_25__th__ December 2001._

Harry hadn't visited yesterday.

That was all Hermione could think about as she made her way down the stairs on Christmas morning.

Christmas Eve had come and gone, and there had been neither sight nor sound of Harry Potter.

Yesterday as supposed to be the day that Harry brought her eleven pipers piping, but there wasn't even a hint of so much as a whistle.

Hermione was now filled with so many conflicting emotions. She was furious with her father for putting this idea into Harry's head, she was upset with Harry for continuing with this stupid thing despite her asking him to give it up, she was upset that Harry did not come around the day before (did he think that she would be disappointed in him if he had failed?) and she was very cross with herself because a very small, tiny, miniscule part of herself felt a little bit sad that Harry might possible have failed to get her the eleventh present. But that was only a very, very, very small tiny itty bitty teensy weensy part of her. The rest of her wanted to shout at her father, and then for Harry to turn up so that they could have a nice Christmas day together.

She made her way into the kitchen and sat herself down at the table. Her parents were already there.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione." Emma said brightly.

Hermione just glared at her before addressing a question to her father.

"Dad, why did you put Harry up to that stupid task?"

"Um, well…" Daniel Granger began.

"The truth, Dan." Emma said before walking from the kitchen.

Dan swallowed nervously. If he lied, Emma would kill him. If he told the truth, Hermione would kill him.

"W-well, Hermione, Harry asked something of me, and I wanted him to prove himself before I would agree to it."

Hermione's eyes narrowed "And what did he ask you?"

It was frightening how much Hermione looked like Emma. The last time Dan saw that look, it was from Emma and he had spent the next month sleeping on the sofa.

"He, uh, he…"

"Well?" Hermione demanded.

"He, uh, he ." he said in a rush.

"Say that again, slowly." Hermione growled through clenched teeth.

Dan knew full well that she had heard exactly what he had said. This was just the beginning of the torture.

"He asked me if it was okay for him to ask you to marry him."

Hermione stared at him for a long while before slowly getting up out of her seat and making her way over to one of the cupboards.

She opened it and took out a cup. It was one she had gotten him when she was ten, and it was decorated with the words "World's Best Dad".

She threw it at him, and he only just ducked out of the way in time.

She grabbed another cup and threw it. This one struck him on the shoulder.

She began to shout at him, and each word was punctuated by a hurling cup.

"You - go - and - apologise - to - Harry - and - tell - him - to - not - worry - about - the - presents - and - tell - him - that - he - can - come - around - here - and - ask - me - to - marry - him - any - time - he - WANTS!"

The last, screamed word was punctuated by several thrown plates which smashed against the front door as Dan slammed it shut behind him.

His daughter's message had been clear, and Daniel Granger knew that even the slightest chance of forgiveness lay down the road at Harry's house.

* * *

><p><em>Knock-knock-knock.<em>

Dan knocked on the door to Harry's house for the fifth time, but there was still no answer.

Cleary Harry was not home, and that was not a good thing for Dan.

Contemplating just where he could go (he dared not return home without Harry); Dan made his way through the village, and soon came upon the village hall, where a lot of activity seemed to be going on.

Several cars were parked outside, and people were moving from these into the hall, carrying boxes that seemed to be overflowing with Christmas decorations.

One of the people, Dan quickly noticed to his great relief, was Harry.

Quickly he made his way over.

"Harry, what's going on?"

Harry turned to him and grinned "I'm about to complete my task, that's what's going on."

"Look, Harry, you don't have to do this. It wasn't fair of me, of course you can ask Hermione to marry you."

"That's nice and all, Dan" replied Harry "But I've now roped a lot of people into this, so do me a favour and just get Hermione here for six this evening, yeah?"

Dan watched him for a few moments before nodding his head.

"Alright. Alright, I'll make sure that she's here."

"Thank you." replied Harry "Oh, and if you could, perhaps we should have all of Hermione's other gifts here as well. Could you bring them down before Hermione gets here?"

Dan nodded, and then headed off up the road, wondering how the hell he was going to get the geese and swans down here.

Harry watched him go with a small smile on his face.

Yesterday it had looked like he had failed. Harry had done everything he could think of in an attempt to locate eleven bagpipe players, but no one could get there on such short notice.

Then, yesterday afternoon, Remus, Dora and Teddy had come around to see him. Little Teddy held up his hands to show Harry the bird that he held gently "Look what we found, Uncle Harry."

From that moment on, Harry had had a renewed vigour about him, and hurriedly set about making plans. A name that had been suggested for the dancing ladies came to his mind and he contacted her immediately. Professor Minerva McGonagall had assured him that she knew of eleven wizards in witches who played the bagpipes, and who would be more than happy to play for Harry (sometimes being the Boy-Who-Lived did pay).

From then on, twelve drummers had not been hard to find, as Harry had more than enough friends who would bang on a drum for him.

One quick phone call later, and the caretaker of the Village Hall had given him permission to host his finale there, and Harry had paid a visit to the church just as the choir was packing up following their carol service.

Now all he had to do was get everything ready in time.

* * *

><p>Hermione did not feel very Christmassy, and so stayed inside glaring at television. In her opinion, everyone on it was far too cheery.<p>

The cold shoulder that she was currently giving her father since he failed to bring Harry with him when he returned actually worked in Dan's favour as he was free to go about collecting Hermione's other presents without her noticing. He took the nearly dead pear tree, the two stuffed turtle doves, the three egg cups, the eight three-legged stools, the eight pails, and eight goats, the broken music box and the photograph Harry took of the ten bouncing Lords from the house and down to the village hall with no problems, though in the end he had had to ask Harry if he could borrow Luna and her flute in order to move the four blackbirds, the five pheasants, the six geese and the seven swans.

Hermione never batted an eyelid at the sound of the flute, or at the sound of all the birds wandering off.

Finally it was ten to six, and Dan came into the living room and cleared his throat "Erm, Hermione. I saw Harry earlier. He wanted us to be at the village hall for six."

Without a word, Hermione got up from the spot on the sofa that she had been occupying for the entire day, shoved on a pair of shoes, slung her coat on and then left the house. Dan and Emma exchanged looks before following her.

When she caught sight of the village hall, Hermione froze in mid-step. The exterior was decorated in full festive décor, lights flashing and blinking all over, snowmen lining the pathway, and a Father Christmas and his Reindeer sitting over the arching porch.

Hermione and her parents entered the hall and found themselves coming face to face with Harry, who smiled and said "Hermione, my love, here are your last two gifts.

The area in front of the stage lit up revealing eleven people carrying bagpipes, including Professor McGonagall herself. Just in front of them were Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, Fred and George Weasley, Colin and Dennis Creevey, Richie Coote, Jimmy Peakes, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley and Terry Boot, each one holding a drum.

As the drummers began to drum, and the bagpipes began to play a soothing tune that Hermione did not know, the rest of the lights in the hall came on.

Hermione stared around in shock. All of the other presents were here (she suspected that the pear tree had some kind of anti-odour ward around its pot), as well as all of her friends. Large Christmas trees sat in each corner, and tinsel and lights decorated the walls. To the left a long table sat, ready to seat many, Luna Lovegood, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Katie Bell, Parvati Patil, Padma Patil, Lavender Brown and Leanne Simms were there dressed as milkmaids again and there on stage were both the local church choir and the local school choir. They began to sing.

_On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

_A Partridge in a Pear Tree._

_On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

_Two Turtle Doves_

_And a Partridge in a Pear Tree._

_On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

_Three French Hens_

_Two Turtle Doves_

_And a Partridge in a Pear Tree_

_On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

_Four Colly Birds_

_Three French Hens_

_Two Turtle Doves_

_And a Partridge in a Pear Tree._

_On the fifth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

_Five Gold Rings_

_Four Colly Birds_

_Three French Hens_

_Two Turtle Doves_

_And a Partridge in a Pear Tree._

_On the sixth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

_Six Geese-a-Laying_

_Five Gold Rings_

_Four Colly Birds_

_Three French Hens_

_Two Turtle Doves_

_And a Partridge in a Pear Tree._

_On the seventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

_Seven Swans-a-Swimming_

_Six Geese-a-Laying_

_Five Gold Rings_

_Four Colly Birds_

_Three French Hens_

_Two Turtle Doves_

_And a Partridge in a Pear Tree._

_On the eighth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

_Eight Maids-a-Milking_

_Seven Swans-a-Swimming_

_Six Geese-a-Laying_

_Five Gold Rings_

_Four Colly Birds_

_Three French Hens_

_Two Turtle Doves_

_And a Partridge in a Pear Tree._

_On the ninth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

_Nine Ladies Dancing_

_Eight Maids-a-Milking_

_Seven Swans-a-Swimming_

_Six Geese-a-Laying_

_Five Gold Rings_

_Four Colly Birds_

_Three French Hens_

_Two Turtle Doves_

_And a Partridge in a Pear Tree._

_On the tenth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

_Ten Lords-a-Leaping_

_Nine Ladies Dancing_

_Eight Maids-a-Milking_

_Seven Swans-a-Swimming_

_Six Geese-a-Laying_

_Five Gold Rings_

_Four Colly Birds_

_Three French Hens_

_Two Turtle Doves_

_And a Partridge in a Pear Tree._

_On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

_Eleven Pipers Piping_

_Ten Lords-a-Leaping_

_Nine Ladies Dancing_

_Eight Maids-a-Milking_

_Seven Swans-a-Swimming_

_Six Geese-a-Laying_

_Five Gold Rings_

_Four Colly Birds_

_Three French Hens_

_Two Turtle Doves_

_And a Partridge in a Pear Tree._

_On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me..._

_Twelve Drummers Drumming_

_Eleven Pipers Piping_

_Ten Lords-a-Leaping_

_Nine Ladies Dancing_

_Eight Maids-a-Milking_

_Seven Swans-a-Swimming_

_Six Geese-a-Laying_

_Five Gold Rings_

_Four Colly Birds_

_Three French Hens_

_Two Turtle Doves_

_And a Partridge in a Pear Tree._

And it was on that final "_Partridge in a Pear Tree" _that little Teddy Lupin opened his hands and released the partridge that he and his mum had found drinking from the bird bath in their garden the previous afternoon.

Hermione's eyes followed it for a few moments before she turned back to face Harry, only he wasn't there. Well he was, he just wasn't standing. He was kneeling.

Before he could even say anything, Hermione threw her arms around him and declared her answer loudly.

"YES!"

"But I had a speech prepared." protested Harry, pouting slightly.

"And I'm sure it was beautiful." replied Hermione "But you don't need to make a speech where you tell me how much you want me and want to spend the rest of your life with me. I only have to look around the room to see that. And I knew it long before my dad lumbered you with this challenge. Of course my answer is yes, because I love you too, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you as well."

"Oh. Okay then." said Harry, pulling the ring box from his pocket.

It was a beautiful ring, and words alone cannot do it justice. Harry placed it on Hermione's finger, and then they kissed as those gathered clapped and cheered loudly.

Seeing that Harry had absolutely no problems with Dan, and given how everything had worked out in the end, Hermione decided to enter into the festive spirit and give him her gift: forgiveness.

After half an hour of the pair of them milling about taking with their friends, dinner was announced.

Everyone sat down together at the long table, and a troop of twenty people dressed as Christmas Elves who usually worked for the garden centre came from, well from somewhere, carrying trays full of potatoes, sprouts, carrots, beef, runner beans, sausages wrapped in bacon, balls of stuffing and just about everything else you'd stuff yourself with during Christmas dinner.

Last came the smoker elf that Harry had dealt with twice, and she set down in front of him a large, lidded serving bowl. She lifted the lid to reveal the main meat of the dish.

Roast goose.

Hermione picked up the carving knife and handed to him.

"Would you care to carve, Mr Potter?"

With took the knife with a grin and answered "Gladly."

* * *

><p>So there you have it. That is the tale of Harry Potter and the Twelve Days of Christmas. Harry and Hermione married six months later, and had five wonderful children.<p>

Did they live happily ever after? Well, what do you think? Of course they did; this is that kind of story.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So what do you think? Sorry for the few days delay in getting this out, but I've had a couple of Christmas Parties to attend, and have only just now recovered :) 'Tis the season and all.**


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